Serves You Right
by Milkbonez
Summary: So, I didn't know drabbles were typically only 100 words or less. In any case. Everyone's favorite anti-Cynthia, Shirona, is hanging out in the middle of the ocean and becomes the victim of an aggressive shark.


Water, water everywhere...

Shirona sat straddling a large, black trash bag, holding tightly to the rake in her hand. Her bare feet were submerged in sapphire-blue seawater, warmed by the sun, which had stained her skin pink. Up in the sky were not clouds but red bricks, floating high in scattered bunches. Around her, too, drifted other forms of trash near the water's surface: blue bins, silver cans, and just decrepit objects in general.

Looking down at her rake, she placed her other hand on the handle and used it to row. A mountain of trash had materialized before her just a couple miles away when she checked the vicinity again. Though the tip of it was slanted, it seemed to stand up perfectly above the waves. That was most certainly the source of all this junk. Seeing no other forms of land about, she began to paddle the water more vigorously. The faster she got to where she apparently needed to be, the better. Unsurprisingly, her bag stank.

A voice called from behind her. "Fancy meeting you here." A familiar Champion-owned Gastrodon made her way to the woman's side and placed her two front legs on one of her ankles.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Behind you." Gastrodon's face stretched into a dumb smile.

Shirona took a gander at the garbage heap rising out of the water before sliding from her own bag of trash and clung to the sea slug's neck. "To Trash Island!"

Gastrodon's legs kicked frantically as she strained to keep her head above water. "Hey! It's hard enough to keep myself from sinking!"

The scantily-clad woman only patted her, commanding, "Mush!"

Gastrodon swam on laboriously, gulping air with each breath. It didn't seem to be much faster than Shirona's original mode of transportation, much to her chagrin. And at least on the trash sack she did not get her undergarments wet, though swimming in the cool water felt refreshing after exposure to the sun. Slowly, subtly, she switched roles with her company, pulling her towards the island while the plotspace queen kicked.

The brick-clouds passed in front of the sun, covering the area with shadow. Gastrodon abruptly jumped and clung to Shirona. "I felt a brush..."

"So did I. Was it a—"

"Shark!" The telltale white dorsal fin rose out of the water just two yards away. Shirona brought her legs up and kicked off against the water-type as the dark shape dragged the bellowing Gastrodon beneath the gentle waves.

Swallowing down a little guilt, she scanned the floating trash and spotted her rake from earlier. She splashed though the water with her heart and adrenaline pumping, not pausing until she reached her tool. The fin was making a frightfully fast advance for her; she gripped the handle with both hands and thrust it towards the fang-lined jaws. The shark flinched, clearly not expecting the jab to its mouth, but it quickly recovered and made another attempt to bite. Shirona thrust her weapon again, this time managing to ram it down the predator's throat. She high-tailed it to the top of another large, plastic sack of refuse while it struggled.

In Crap Sea without a paddle, she maneuvered her new floatation device with her limbs. Each kick drew her ever closer to the mountain of trash. A splash, a cough; a backwards glance confirmed that her shark had spat up the rake after chomping the handle in two. She shifted into a kneeling position as it jetted near and tore off a chunk of the bag. It sank a little further into the sea as its contents spilled out.

If she wasn't being hunted, she could make a dash for the island. But, as her little boat continued to fall under the waves, it seemed that she would have to punch out the sea beast. Her fists were clenched as the shadow in the water circled her, disappearing in the murky blue. A greenish glint caught her eye, and she reached down into the bag to pull up a large fragment of a shattered wine bottle. The neck was still mostly intact, and the bottom half was nice and sharp. She kept a tight grip on the neck, her muscles tense and at the ready.

She saw the white fin tipped with green, saw past the fangs into its dark gullet, and she lashed at its face. For a moment she sat in disbelief, staring at the stream of blood in the water as the shark fled; then, seizing the chance to escape, made a beeline for Trash Island. She grabbed onto the edge of a dirty mattress jutting out of the side and pulled herself over various bags and bins, not stopping until she had put the sea far beneath her.

"Ugh..." The whole island reeked of rotting food and rusted metal mixed with the stench of the ocean. Shirona sighed, her pulse finally slowing. Wringing the water out of her long blond hair, she looked downwards to where the frustrated shark had raised its head above the waves to glare back. It turned away to continue swimming, revealing the bloodied gash on the side of its face. "Serves you right."

Except the joke was on her, because she couldn't figure out how to get home from here.

"Wait, I'm a plothole pimp. Why didn't I just do this earlier...?" She willed for a violet-black rip to appear but hesitated before she dove into it, staring at the ivory spikes that lined the opening.

"This isn't a plothole!" was the only thought she had time to form as the shark's jaws closed around her head.

The nape of her neck was cold, tingly, and she blinked at the pale blue light creeping in through the window of her bedroom. The clock at her bedside confirmed that she had only been asleep for a few hours. She turned onto her side and pulled the blankets around herself before kicking them off and summoning another plothole. No spikes. Good. She stepped through to the front door, where two bags of garbage lay. Muttering "I knew I should have done this before I went to bed," she shoved them back into the dark tear, which directed them into the dumpster at the side of the building.

"Nitrine!"

The brown-eyed nightmaren had the sleeve of his soft hoodie pressed to the side of his face, his blood staining the white fabric pink. Lucent took his arm gently and led him to the restroom. "What happened?"

"Disrupting dreams." Nitrine removed his sleeve so his brother could inspect the wound. It stretched from the back of his jaw up behind his eye.

Gingerly removing his fingerknives, Lucent cleaned the gash with a wet cloth before rubbing the area with antibiotic ointment. The other winced throughout the process. The former inquired, "I mean, what cut you this badly?"

"Shirona and her broken wine bottle. She was too kickass for me, I tell you." He detailed the whole nightmare to his blue-eyed brother, who listened as he bandaged the wound and gave it a kiss for good measure.

"Let's get you out of this hoodie; I can wash the blood out for you. Why did you try to attack Shirona? I thought she was your friend..."

Nitrine followed Lucent out of the bathroom in just his T-shirt, explaining, "She is, but I don't like it when she grabs my butt. She doesn't listen when I ask her to stop it, so I thought a little payback was in order. Serve her right, you know? I didn't expect her to nearly stab my eye out."

"But did you at least expect that she would fight back, in any case?" Nitrine gave a small shrug. He knew Shirona better than that. Lucent paused and turned towards him. "I think you should be a bit more careful the next time you try to tangle with her in her dreams."

"Definitely... Lucie, would you please not tell anyone about this? I don't want word to get back to Shirona. Who knows what she'd do to me."

"My lips are sealed."


End file.
